TO HARD TO SAVE | PRIVATE FOR NOW

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

Two dead. That was the current count that he had right now. But, who was counting? Well, he was of course. He had to at least keep a little bit of a tally so that he didn't forget where he had been. Although, he didn't even know where he had been half the time. The former human just was going to treat this area like the city that his gang had once been in charge of. It hadn't really been his own gang though, as it was more the boss's gang as he was just part of the gang. One of the more notorious ones in the area, and one that could easily be considered a huge threat to any police force in the area, or to any other gangs for that matter. He didn't believe that there was anything that he could do to attain for the sins that he had committed. When he first arrived in this world, it was so strange that he thought that he had arrived in his own personal hell. He thought it would be funny to have been turned into some kind of dog and then be forced to live in avoid with no one to talk to. That had happened the first day when he woke up in a crater not knowing where he was. No matter where he looked, there wasn't a breathing animal in sight, it was off-putting that was for damn certain. He was fairly certain that he had a near panic attack the first days before he started to talk logic to himself. It would have definitely been strange to come across a massive black beast talking to himself like he was someone that was insane. Not saying that he wasn't after all the things that he had seen. Way before he had even joined a gang in the first place. Thanks to being a former human, the guy didn't know anything about clans or animals for that reason.

The Hellhound just walked around doing whatever he wanted, like he had done when he was a human. He had guns to protect them back then, and right now all he had was the throwing knives that he could launch at those that were going to become a threat later on. So far, he had only killed those that he had come across, but he knew that there were other ways to get his name out there. Survivors. That's what the gang always used to do when raiding others that were on their turf. Kill all of them except one to deliver a message. Sometimes they would leave no survivors and that worked well for being a pile of bodies and everything. He had his own methods of dealing with the way his business was going to run in this place. Thanks to his lack of knowledge, he didn't know that the Ascendants was associated with the Rosebloods. No one had given him the rundown so he shouldn't be expected to know everything in a world that he didn't belong to. Thanks to the black metal skull mask that he wore, it was basically impossible for him to catch any scents that were in the area thanks to the limited breathing area inside of the mask in the first place. The only thing that caught his attention was a building in the distance. That was obviously built by humans. So, that at least confirmed that there were humans in this world. He had just yet to see them. Vagabond was well beyond the border, and he stuck out like a sore thumb as he stood in an open area. There didn't seem to be that many creatures as evening turned to late evening. A military grade sash was across his chest that had throwing knives. The mask that he wore it wasn't the shape of that of a canine skull, but instead an elongated human skull. His stark blue eyes looked around the area to see if he could spot anything that he could mess with. His two tails moving independently of one another.

[member=2678]ATTICUS[/member]

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[ATTICUS]

▹▹▹▹ // little rushed while I finish up homework! Just wanted to get somethin' up

Atticus was settling nicely into the Ascendants, though at this point he supposed he couldn't call it 'settling' anymore. No, the melanistic jaguar was... Content, here. It was a contentment he had not found in some many long days here. He had been promoted, the people around him, while he did not know any of them intimately yet, not that it bothered him, were kindly enough. He and Agathe and Titan got along well, which was a bonus considering they were the ones leading this place. And, overall, he had so far managed to prevent any quarrels from occurring between him and someone else. He walked along the border slowly, briefly working his jaw at the paint drying upon his face that he had fixed this morning from his dip at the pool party the other night, his golden eyes slowly scanning the area around him, his ears up and alert. His senses were always on alert, even when he didn't want them to be. It was a fact that he had become used to; a fact that had kept him alive all these long years, alert even when he was asleep, subconciously aware of the facts going on around him, even from the shift of his own paws, the breeze running across his back, or the man sitting on the border in front of him.

Atticus was no fool.

The metal mask he wore, shaped into the featurette of a skull; the sash filled with knives, the dual tails, and the bright, piercing eyes. The jaguar stopped some feet away, standing still as he faced the unknown creature. His paws stood quiet, and still, his body poised as his head tilted faintly, the light catching upon his golden eyes as he waited for the creature in front of him to move, to breathe. "What is your business with the Ascendants, stranger?" his low voice called, a rumble in his throat as he waited, his body poised for whatever the answer might be. Who knew- perhaps this was just another very strange, unorthodox joiner.  Yet, the way this man held himself, and his appearance alone was enough to make Kit easily think twice. "State your name and where you come from, if you would."

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[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

(No worries buddy!)

Vagabond usually didn't take things as face value because he knew that if he did it would kick him in the ass later on. Compared to Atticus, the other barely seemed to get along with most of those that he had met. Maybe before he had joined the likes of a gang he would have been a lot different and more kind toward others, but he was different now. It was almost ironic that he could almost be considered innocent when he worked for the law, but now he was always against it. He didn't bother trying to do anything that wouldn't benefit him. If someone was willing to pay him a good amount to do something then he would most likely do it for them and make sure that he did it right. There were plenty of times where they did indeed fail a couple missions here and there because of some complications, but other than that they made sure that they did things right. He had enough experience under his belt to know how some rival gangs ran each other and what to do with them if they overstepped their bounds into their territory. The former human didn't seem to realize that the same applied to the animals that had their own territories and didn't exactly like the idea of being it trespassed on. If they saw a rival gang in their area, the gang that he was with would waste no time in trying to mow them down or at least give them a warning if they were feeling nice enough. The gang quickly learned that being nice never really got them anywhere and brute force was usually the way to get when it came to getting answers. He had tortured humans before, but he had yet to touch the likes of an animal and try to torture them.

If anything, he would just put a bullet through their skull and give them at least a clean death if he was out shooting wildlife. People could probably consider him sick for doing so, but he made up the excuse that he was just basically hunting and that there was no need for everyone to get all upset about it. The Hellhound didn't exactly have a method of what he wanted to use against whoever came across him first. He just knew that he wanted to make the other terrified of him so that they would end up telling everyone around the area what they had just seen. Vagabond couldn't help but give off an intimidating vibe when he was around others. He would much rather be intimidating, as people were less likely to take advantage of him if they were scared of him. Another black shape caught his attention as it started walking toward him. At first, he thought it was a cougar or something, as that was the only big cat that he had ever had a little bit of experience with when they were in the mountains. He didn't know breed the wildcat was, but it was certainly larger than the ones that he had seen so far. Vagabond's movements themselves seemed to almost be nonexistent, keeping his breathing to a minimum so that his heartbeat wouldn't increase with what he was about to do.

The other obviously kept his distance from him, and he couldn't imagine why. When the other mentioned where he was, the 6ft tall hellhound would slightly tilt his head to the side. Now, if a small pup or canine was doing the slight head turn, one could probably describe it as being cute. Here, it was far from being curious. Instead, the action itself seemed almost threatening. The smirk that he wore on his face was hidden with the metal mask that was on his face. Ascendants. An interesting name he had to admit. When the other questioned him, the large Hellhound shrugged his shoulders and spoke in a manner that sounded innocent. "I had no idea where I was really. I walked in a random direction from where I woke up and ended here. Just looking to pass the time really." The more he spoke, the deeper his voice got, and the less innocent he started to sound. As soon as he finished talking, the large black beast rushed forward, aiming to ram his shoulder against the much smaller animal. If that was successful, the throwing knives that were attached to the sash on his body would begin to levitate, before one shot forward at a good pace, aiming to impale itself in the large wildcat's back leg, hoping to limit the other's mobility. Because of how big he was, he wasn't exactly the fastest thing out there, but he had ranged attacks that somewhat took care of that.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[ATTICUS]

▹▹▹▹Perhaps, in some idle way, they were similar in that fashion. Too often the world presented something that seemed so perfect on the outside, yet the deeper you delved the more you discovered that it was dark and empty. Would it be enough to think that Atticus' life would have been far different, if he, as a young man, had been like Vagabond and joined a gang? If he had not left home and took his own path? Perhaps it was a consideration. They were both fighters, and Kit did not frequently- or rather at all- speak of anything in his past here in his time in the Ascendants; but on the other hand, no one had asked. They, too, had taken him at face value. But Atticus was no fool. There was nothing about Vagabond that was going to be sweet and shy like so many others here, there was nothing about that mask, or the way he held himself, that said Atticus was going to just send him on his way and continue home for lunch.

It was not Vagabond's intimidating vibe that put Kit on the defensive; it could be argued that he himself held some level of intimidation within his stark golden eyes that contrasted firecly with the melanistic patterns of his pelt, standing tall and sturdy as if nothing would knock him down. But the stranger was not a figure that he was wanting to see. He knew what this would mean, as much as his mind tried to conjure up the other possibilities, to prepare him, but there was no look upon that man that said this wasn't going to end without a fight. When the stranger started to speak, Atticus took a slow breath in to completely steady himself as that voice began to molt with every word, every syllable and slight change of breath that passed Vagabond's lips, a slow growl rumbling in his throat as he shifted his feet forward slightly, preparing himself either to lunge or for the brunt of an attack. The logical answer would be that Vagabond, given his words and his apperance would be the first to strike, in which his only option would be to try and strike him directly. The knives would be an issue, Atticus knew, but they were only (for the most part) good at a range. Close combat with small knives meant Atticus, at least, could pull it from his grasp.

When the creature lunged forward, his shoulders tensed as he waited, exhaling slowly as the creature charged, waiting as long as he could before he would swiftly pull himself out of the way of his path, bracing himself quickly on his back paws once he had secured the turn in an attempt to lunge right back into Vagabond's side and roll him over instead. The blades had not been forgotten, but the idea that Vagabond had supernatural abilities, a rare fact when Atticus had grown, but seemingly less so here, had not crossed his mind in full in the few seconds he had to consider. He lunged as a blade flew free from Vagabond's sash, his eyes registering the blade as his momentum carried out his previously intended actions of lunging into the creature that dared to attack, not having enough time to shift his body before the blade sunk into his back leg, making him growl in pain and snarl. His original intent to sink his claws into the man was forgotten as he instead attempted to sink his teeth into Vagabond's shoulder, not only to serve as a counter for the pain coursing through his leg that threatened to change his balance, but also to hopefully cause more damage and return the favor.  Even as he made his attempt, the faint traces of the Rosebloods upon the creature's fur, such a faint trace of their allies would only made his grip tighten, anger coursing through him.

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[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

Vagabond didn't like to think about the past all that much. He knew that if he did, it would just bring negative emotions and probably ruin his day in its entirety. He didn't know where his life would be if he hadn't done the things that he had done. He had once been considered innocent to a degree, and probably could still be considered to be. A victim. But that had happened so many years ago that the older male probably no longer had any attributes that could redeem him for his actions. Vagabond had once joined the law enforcement because he didn't have anything else going for him and wanted to help out the world. He had absolutely hated the criminals that he put away for several years, and it became known to those around that he was great at his job. He was an amazing shot rarely missing, and that also meant that he was a threat in a shootout if it got out of control for too long. The city that he had been in charge of wasn't the type to ask questions first and then shoot later. There were too many instances of officers being killed over and over again, and he swore that he wasn't going to be the next one to be killed in the line of duty. The more and more officers that were killed, the more his rage was filled to take the criminals out, and there were instances where he could have been charged for murder thanks to his trigger finger on the force. Despite that, his reputation gained some interest from a group that worked along with the government. At least, that's what he had been told and immediately believed because this was a great potential career change, as he was getting bored of doing the same things over and over again. During this time, he wasn't known as Vagabond, but instead had an actual name, a name that only Rimmy knew about but also didn't know that Vagabond and the other was actually the same identity.

He joined the organization without hesitation, and it was there that he was debriefed on the kind of stuff that he was going to do. Most of it dealt with underground work, killing high figures that the government wouldn't want to be associated with taking out with. His identity would be kept secret from most places, but his identity wouldn't be completely taken away from him as he would still have a life outside of the damned organization. He had partners that went on him with these missions, as sending a one-man army wasn't an option and was far too risky for that kind of decision to be made. Rimmy ended up being the main partner the last couple of years that he ran with the organization, thinking from the beginning that they were doing good until they found out later that they had been lied to. Rimmy hadn't been the originals actual name, and Vagabond was fairly certain that he only knew the other's real name. There was a chance that if things had turned different, that if he had just remained as a cop that none of this would happen and he wouldn't have been killed when he had joined the gang. That he would still be a law abiding citizen thinking that he was doing the world justice. Well, fate was a bitch. There was no going back now, and now that he had nothing really to work toward, he was going back to his old habits. He could tell while he was talking that the large wildcat didn't believe a word that he was saying. He wasn't playing innocent enough, was it? Or it could simply be the looks that he had that were a little bit too intimidating for some faces. Goldenboy would certainly be a better option than he was when it came to smooth-talking others. Vagabond had lunged forward to try and get at the large wildcat, but it seemed the other had been prepared and basically sidestepped him. He wasn't the greatest fighter in the body that he was currently in. Now, if this had been a gunfight he would have won a long time ago.

But, this was animal on animal, and thanks to the mask he wore it meant that he wasn't capable of using his jaws either. He just had his body weight and his knives. An annoyed look spread across his facial features as he landed nothing but tall grass, only to feel a force hit his shoulders and threw him off balance slightly. Thanks to the meer size differences and the weight difference, Vagabond almost weighing around 1,000lbs, the other was going to have to do a lot to be able to knock him over in the first place. A low growl escaped Vagabond's jaw as he watched as the jaguar lunged at him. Pain pierced his shoulder, and he had to say it hurt like hell. He hadn't been severely injured before, and the jaguar's jaws were certainly like vices on his massive shoulders. However, he noticed blood dripping from the other's leg, so one of his attacks at least hit. More and more knives began to unsheathe themselves from the sash and using his air elementals, aimed to throw three knives into the jaguar's back. If that didn't work, Vagabond would aim to let himself fall onto his left side as he aimed to crush the jaguar under his weight, possibly breaking ribs or a bone of the attack did land. Being in pain usually didn't do him any favors that was for damn sure, and what made it worse, was that he had no idea how to heal wounds in this world, so if the wound got infected he would really be in a bad position.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[ATTICUS]

▹▹▹▹ In a regular fight, this would have been no problem. Kit was a large creature, and while he wasn't a wall of weight like Vagabond was, he had the ability to be lithe, and muscle on his side to carry out practically any action that he pleased, so long as he was focused. His mind did not linger as to why this fight was occuring, why an ally would attack him; but perhaps that fact was simply that. This individual, this one person, was not to be an ally of theirs. All Kit knew was, though, his survival was on the line. He wasn't sure how far Vagabond was going to take this, but any fight could easily end in death, and Kit was not willing to die. He knew he was outmatched, but there was no backing out now. Either he fought, and put in as much damage as he could, evenknowing that from sheer size difference alone he would take several blows, or admit his defeat and die, or leave a potential threat still lingering on their borders. He was somewhere over two hundred pounds, but that still meant Vagabond was nearly four times his weight.

Atticus' teeth dug into Vagabond's shoulder as much as he could get his jaws to close around the Hellhound's body, violently twisting in an attempt to injure his shoulder as much as possible. His gaze however drifted up slightly as he saw the daggers begin to float again, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth just a stark reminder, his adrenaline pumping as he knew he had to move. He had to move, but where? There was nowhere to move, nowhere that he could feasibly dash in a split second where those honing-daggers would still not find their mark, not with an ability like that. He growled lowly, waiting until it seemed like the daggers would make for their final strike before he would let Vagabond go and drop to the ground out of their reach, A paw striking out to try and rake down Vagabond's belly as he lay somewhat prone, trying to give himself enough time to move again. Of course, with the dagger still forgotten in his leg, he moved slower than he might have originally, finding himself, in the next moments, crushed by the sheer weight of the Hellhound. He felt his breath wheezing out of his chest before he could stop it, a firey pain rushing up his side akin to someone lighting him on fire, pain dazzling across his eyes as his paws struggled, trying to catch his breath as ribs fractured and broke. Effectively pinned, given the weight upon him was not one he could shove off in his present state, he shoved down the panic that threatened to overtake him, trying to at least rake his claws down where he could, to find some footing, and to get the beast to move

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[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

He wasn't fast. That much was obvious considering the size that he usually held over others. The way that he was able to counter-attack enough from his large size was with the use of his knives that were good at tracking the opponents that he did have. The large beast didn't have any need to move around that much when his knives did much of the work as well. However, he was already starting to figure out his limitations as being a larger creature. He was fairly certain that if he was ever going to fight Rimmy, that he would lose immediately to the african wild dog out of consideration that the guy could fly with his wings, and that the canine would be able to outrun him. This just meant that he was going to have to get a little bit of practice in here and there so that he wouldn't be taken by surprise as much and be able to hold his own. Usually, he took surprise of those that weren't expecting him to attack someone, and he used that to his advantage to get on top of smaller creatures before they really had a chance to do so. In this instance, Atticus had been ready for the attack from the very beginning, and that there was no chance that he would have been able to take the jaguar by surprise. It was this kind of behavior that he would expect from another human that was in a gang and knew his face and that he wasn't going to leave without having a little bit of fun here and there. Right now, he certainly wasn't the strongest when it came to what animals lived in the clans, but he was getting somewhat close to it once he figured out his actual capabilities in this world.

Part of him still didn't know if this world was real or something that his mind was coming up with as he was slowing dying on the roof that he had been shot at. The Hellhound watched as the large wildcat let go of his shoulder once the knives started to direct themselves toward him. Vagabond moved slightly out of the way out of the jaguar's reach when the other dived underneath him. Of course, all of the daggers missed and impaled themselves on the ground around him. Not that it really mattered when the hellhound was laying on top of the jaguar, a victorious 'Ha!' escaping the beast's jaws as he heard something cracking in the other's body. He was glad that he was big as he was, as it made breaking bones so much easier. Vagabond felt claws rake through his fur, dealing a couple of scratches, but the other mostly managed to gain hold of the scales that worked almost like armor across his back. Vagabond seemed to refuse to for several moments seeming putting more pressure that he had on the other's body. At that moment, the bleeding Hellhound would get up from the other's body, but there were already knives that were hovering in the air. As soon as he got up, Vagabond would aim to launch three throwing knives in three different locations on the body of the jaguar. One would aim to impale itself into the other's back, the second would aim to impale itself into the others front leg, while the third would aim to impale itself into the jaguar's gut. Vagabond would then aim to get up onto his paws, his blood dripping onto the ground, it seemed to be a little bit of a darker color than what blood should be, but it wasn't exactly the color black either, and he would then aim to place one of his paws on the body of the animal in an attempt to pin him down on the ground.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[ATTICUS]

▹▹▹▹It was perhaps possible to say that Atticus was part of a 'gang', though 'gang' would not have necessarily been the right choice of words. He had been raised as a warrior, as a fighter, from the day he was old enough to start carrying the weight of a blade and copy the older men (and women) in his group. They were not so much a gang as more a city, a culture, like the rest of these Clans he now found himself involved in. His fighting ability was close-hand combat, and he had learned over the years to be alert and act instinctively, to always have a plan a, b, and c, as quickly as they could be mustered. But in this fight, he was left with very few options. Now that the pain was radiating through his body, even with a fair bit of adrenaline that helped to numb it, he knew he had to move, he had to do something before it was too late for him against this creature. He needed an upper hand, but how? He needed to end him- but when?

The thoughts did not truly cross his mind as he heard the creature - for he hardly deserved a name anymore - laugh at his pain and his misery, growling lowly as his body seemed to sag with some relief as the weight was lifted off of him, even as his paws caught in scales of his armoring, his body yelling as he felt the weight being displaced. Move. It urged him, even through the pain dazzling across his body, his body shifting awkwardly as his gaze caught sight of the daggers, the first narrowly missing his spine and grazing across his back instead, the second digging in a bit more, but not sinking as it instead gashed into his body, and the third thudding into the earth as he made the attempts to haul himself back up to his feet, almost making it back up to his paws until a large paw slammed back into his shoulder and halted his efforts. Move! His head swung to grab one of the blades that had thudded into the ground and attempting to sink it into the creature's paw that held him down, giving a good shove with his shoulder at the same time to try and displace him, refusing to be kept down.

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[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

(Sorry for the late reply again quill!)

Fighting as a human was so much easier for him. He could use his fist to deal blows that could knock a grown ass man onto the ground. It wasn't hard considering that he had acquired several different types of training over the years. It was easy for him to merge the different years of training together, and use his combat abilities to help the crew when they needed it. When he had disposed of the organization that he had worked for, he knew that there was no way that he could go back to daily life anymore and that he would become a wanted man. He adorned the mask that he wore today and kept the rest of his identity hidden as well. Back when he was a human, he usually let a gun talk through his problems, it was either a knife or a gun either of them worked just as well. The mask that he wore became so well known, that they had given him the title of The Vagabond each time that they saw him. There was a switch that he usually pulled when it came down to getting into the mindset of the job that he had been given. Most of the fights that he had gotten into when he was a human were usually one-sided. There was a time where he did have a little bit of a challenge but those moments were rare. Depending on who he was attacking, he could just as easily grab his hands around a man's skull, and given enough leverage, he could snap their neck and go for a stealthy approach. He usually didn't torture those that he killed unless he needed intel from them. Now that Goldenboy was in the equation, there wasn't really a reason to torture those that he did come across in places like this because he could just go to his crewmate for answers.

He wasn't the type to ask for directions if he got lost, as he was stubborn in that way. Fighting as an animal though was something completely different. Some of these animals had been born to fight in the body that they had now, but instead, he had just had this body for around a week and here he was. It was obvious that he may not be experienced enough on account of the wounds that he was getting on his body. Vagabond had a feeling that the crew would make fun of him on how he couldn't take someone down that was so much smaller than him. He had to admit, that this guy was certainly resourceful when it came to be the likes of an animal. Vagabond usually considered most animals to be slightly inferior when it came to the thought process a human would have, but maybe he was wrong. Vagabond watched as the knife was plunged into his paw, causing him to grunt in pain, but that didn't make him release him either. His own blade was in his own paw. How ironic? As the other tried to shove him with his shoulder, Vagabond would aim to push back with both of his paws this time, aiming to have his left paw on the side of the jaguars head while the right paw would remain where it was. If the positioning worked, Vagabond would aim to slam the jaguar's head against the ground as hard as he could. It could either knock him out, daze him, or many other factors. Depending on how stubborn the creature turned out to be, but either way, it would hurt like hell if the other didn't move in time.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]